


Microaggression

by microwaveslayer



Category: Johnny to Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microwaveslayer/pseuds/microwaveslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edgar meets Johnny at a bus stop and hands him one of his dropped sketches, complimenting it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Microaggression

Edgar Vargas was a relatively quiet man, but a good one. He didn't make unnecessary conversation, a gesture that would have been much appreciated from the woman talking loudly on her phone and snapping gum with a ferocity that reminded Edgar of a wild animal.

“So, like, holy shit, yeah?” she said.

Edgar turned away from her. He didn't think anyone deserved to not exist for being annoying, but he did wish the habits would stop. Honestly, he wished he had something to distract him from the woman's chatter.

A man came up the street, headphones on and slurping something. Edgar watched the impossibly scrawny man walk right by them and a sheet of paper fell out of the man's backpack, placing itself conveniently at Edgar's feet.

He scooped it up and found the most offensive drawing he had ever seen. Who knew stick figures could convey such obscene gestures. Still, he got up and followed the man, eager to return the vulgar piece of artwork.

The man flinched away from his touch, murder in his eyes. He pulled his headphones off, leaving them around his neck.

“What?” the man snapped, the syllable laced with thorns.

“Well, you dropped this,” Edgar told him, offering the page to the man.

He seemed to recognize it and, with claw-like fingers, snatched it out of Edgar's hand, rolling it up. The man tilted his head at Edgar and asked, “What did you think of it?”

“It's very . . . unique and creative,” Edgar answered, not expecting to have a conversation with him. He felt like running away from his man, but that would be rude. He shoved down his discomfort and smiled at the man.

“I'm glad you like it,” the man said. “My name's Johnny.”

“Edgar. Edgar Vargas.”

Johnny tilted his head and nodded. “Well, I should--”

“Oh my god, get a room you fucking losers!” the woman at the bus stop shouted, snapping her gum a few times for emphasis. She turned back to her phone, chatting wildly about the “queers these days.” Edgar felt Johnny stiffen and the man pulled out a uniquely shaped blade from his belt.

“I'll take care of this,” Johnny told Edgar with a saccharine smile. 

He rounded on the woman, taking a few steps toward her and slapping the cellphone out of her hand. Before she could protest, Johnny's fist made contact with her jaw, sending her head reeling.

Edgar opened his mouth to protest, but Johnny embedded the knife in the woman's throat, dragging it downwards with more force than Edgar thought his scrawny body could exert. Through the jagged carving, the pink and burgundy of her innards pressed against the torn skin and muscle. Johnny, nonchalant, crushed the cellphone in the gutter beneath his boot.

Ignoring the blood on himself as he wiped the blade on his shirt, Johnny remarked, “Like fucking roaches.”

Edgar, shocked to see a person so violently murdered in plain daylight, nodded stiffly.

“Well, I'll be going then,” Johnny said, the knife disappearing as easily as it had appeared. “See ya, Edgar!”

The man ran off, leaving Edgar at a quiet bus stop with a cooling corpse. Surprisingly, no one seemed to notice and Edgar went through the motions of his day smoothly.

He decided to walk home instead of waiting for the bus the next day.


End file.
